


Pillow Talk

by variablestar



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: AndTheyWereRoommates.mp4, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 11:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13030353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/variablestar/pseuds/variablestar
Summary: When Akaashi eventually drags himself out of his bedroom, he looks sort of hazy.  But it's a proper thing, the way people aresupposedto look when they've just woken up, as opposed to the typical, I've-gone-four-days-on-six-hours-of-sleepexhaustedlook.So there's a possibility that Bokuto didn't actually screw things up at all.  There's a possibility that something about last nightworked.Bokuto doesn't know where he stands on his feelings for his new roommate.  He thinks he likes him.  Hedefinitelylikes sleeping with him.  Not that anyone has to know about that.





	Pillow Talk

 

            The thing about living downtown is, it’s expensive. And while Bokuto loves his job — really, he does, he _loves_ it — it doesn’t have the greatest pay. Those two things combined with his generally terrible spending habits have led to the one thing Kenma’s already been pushing him towards for months:

 

            He has to find a roommate.

 

            It’s not that he minds the idea. He doesn’t. Bokuto likes meeting new people, and he figures he gets along well with most. Living with someone could be a really good adventure. It could result in a really good _friendship_ if he’s lucky. (That being said, he kind of really wishes Kenma wasn’t already living with Terushima, because Kenma would be an amazing roommate, the best, probably, and Bokuto already knows _they_ get along. But alas, Kenma and Terushima have sort of been attached at the hip since Bokuto’s known either of them, so he’s out of luck there.)

 

            So Kenma and Terushima — mostly Kenma — help him come up with an ad and put it up online, and they’re both there for most of the handful of people who eventually drop by to meet Bokuto and see the apartment. It’s not a very big one, but it’s _nice_. It’s comfortable. Bokuto keeps it clean, and he’s replaced all the burnt out lights, and the couch may have the most hideous pattern to ever be seen on a couch, but it’s _good_.

 

            In the end, Bokuto knows exactly who he wants to call back. He knew who he’d call from the moment he arrived to scope out the place. Kenma exchanged some words with him, he’d said something that made Terushima laugh while they were looking in what would be his bedroom, and he was nice. He was polite.

 

            He was really, really pretty.

 

            Bokuto will fully admit to the fact that he’s a weak man. But it’s not just that the guy’s pretty! Definitely not. Bokuto thinks they’ll get along. At the very least, he figures they’ll be able to live together without biting each other’s heads off. They’ll do better than when Kenma still lived with Shirabu.

 

            It takes the first couple weeks of living with Akaashi Keiji to really get used to him. He’s organized, but not in any sort of order that makes sense to Bokuto. But Bokuto doesn’t mind keeping spices with glassware. He gets accustomed to finding books stacked up beside neatly aligned shoes. Akaashi’s clean for sure, and spends evenings half the week dusting or wiping mess from the windows. He’s on some sort of healthy diet that Bokuto doesn’t quite get, but sometimes there’s extra fish when Akaashi cooks, so he won’t complain about that, either. He doesn’t talk much, but it’s not a shyness thing, Bokuto thinks. It’s more that he puts his two cents in and lets Bokuto fill in the rest of the gaps. He interns at some fancy science office when he’s not taking his last semester of classes at university.

 

            Bokuto is ninety percent certain Akaashi never sleeps.

 

            At the very least, Akaashi doesn’t sleep at the regular hours everyone else does. There are evenings Bokuto comes home late from Kenma’s, nights he wakes up in the middle of, one night that he stays up until nearly three in the morning watching an anime Terushima’s gotten him hooked on. No matter the time, Akaashi’s always up.

 

            He’s not loud. Bokuto’s not sure Akaashi has the capability of being loud, really. But there’s always light seeping through the crack beneath his door, and Bokuto sometimes hears him shuffling around. Once, he’s pretty sure he wakes up to the microwave going.

 

            He thinks at first that he’s just having trouble adjusting to the new living space. Bokuto had that problem when he first moved out on his own. But the issue persists, and Bokuto knows it’s got to be something else.

 

            “Maybe his circadian rhythm is fucked,” Terushima suggests over lunch one weekend, nearly a month after living with Akaashi. “Like Kenma’s, you know? He might just get his sleep at, like, three in the afternoon.”

 

            Bokuto shrugs. It could be. But then, Akaashi also works all day, so he isn’t sure how that would go.

 

            It isn’t that Bokuto minds it. He doesn’t. It’s not like Akaashi wakes him up on a regular basis, intentionally or otherwise. Bokuto’s just a little worried for him. There are some mornings where Bokuto gets up, and while Akaashi’s already in the kitchen sipping at coffee, he looks more exhausted than ever. He once trips over the coffee table, and sometimes ends up repeating things he says to Bokuto without even realizing he’s doing it.

 

            “It’s probably insomnia,” Kenma tells him while they’re watching some terrible robot movie. “Regardless, I’m sure he’s got a handle on it.”

 

            “I don’t know,” Bokuto says. “He almost put salt in his tea this morning instead of sugar.”

 

            “Have you asked him about it?” Terushima drapes himself over the back of the couch, leaning a little too far forward and nearly falling forward before he catches himself.

 

            “I don’t want to intrude!” Bokuto says. “What if it’s, like, a personal thing, that he doesn’t want to talk about?”

 

            “Then he’ll tell you as much,” Kenma says.

 

            Bokuto figures he’s right. Kenma is very rarely wrong, anyway. He’s just worried it might mess up the whole living situation somehow. Because as it is now, they get on well. They’re not close like Bokuto is with his other friends, but they’ve hardly known each other more than five weeks. If Bokuto’s up before Akaashi leaves for class in the mornings, they’ll have breakfast together. Sometimes Akaashi will come out with a book or his laptop, and sit on the couch while Bokuto’s watching something on TV. They talk about little things here and there, and they’ve gotten to know each other well enough. They get along, and it’s comfortable, and Bokuto doesn’t want to overstep and mess that up.

 

            But he also knows that Akaashi’s got the worst dark circles under his eyes, and sometimes he sways a little on his feet when he’s standing at the stove and making dinner. Bokuto’s worried about him, and if he doesn’t ask what’s wrong, he can’t do anything to help. And he’d really, really like to be able to help. Because that’s what Bokuto does for his friends, and Akaashi’s kind of his friend, isn’t he?

 

            It takes a couple days for him to really work up to it, once he’s decided he does, in fact, have to say _something_. He never feels like there’s a right moment for it, and that’s probably because one doesn’t actually exist. Bokuto just has to come out with it.

 

            It’s late Friday evening when Akaashi’s just finishing drying the dishes from dinner, and Bokuto’s wiping his hands on a towel after washing them all. (This is a system they have worked out, in terms of keeping the apartment clean. Bokuto washes, Akaashi dries, and whoever didn’t cook has to put all the dishes away. It works.) Bokuto’s pretty sure Akaashi didn’t sleep for a second the night before, and it shows. He looks kind of dead on his feet.

 

            “Hey, uh, Akaashi.” He winces at himself, but Akaashi just turns to look at him. “Are you— Are you sleeping alright? You just seem kinda . . .” Bokuto waves his hand in a meaningless gesture, but he figures Akaashi will get what he’s going for, anyway. He usually does. He’s gotten good at filling in the gaps in Bokuto’s words.

 

            Akaashi’s eyes narrow for a brief second, trying to pick out what Bokuto’s trying to say, and then his shoulders drop. He sets the glass he was drying to the side, and wrings the towel in his hands. That’s another thing Bokuto’s picked up about Akaashi — he doesn’t think he’s physically capable of keeping his hands still. They’re always fidgeting. All quiet energy, Akaashi is.

 

            “It’s not really a big deal,” Akaashi says. “Just insomnia. I’m managing.”

 

            Bokuto raises an eyebrow. He’s not sure how Akaashi defines _managing_ , but it’s not in the same way Bokuto does if it means getting irritated with the microwave when it didn’t reheat his leftovers, even though Akaashi forgot to actually hit _Start_ to begin with.

 

            “Aren’t there, like, pills or something?” Bokuto asks. “Not to intrude!” He throws his hands up in defense, already preparing for Akaashi to be offended. “Just, you know, I don’t want anything to happen, you know?”

 

            But Akaashi doesn’t seem particularly offended. Just . . . _tired_. He sighs, drops his gaze to a water stain on one of the cabinets below the sink. “Those don’t really work for me,” Akaashi says. “I tried. They just ended up giving me nightmares and headaches.”

 

            Bokuto frowns, trying to think through what else to say. He knows it isn’t healthy, for Akaashi to be losing this much sleep every night. To lose _all_ sleep, some nights.

 

            Akaashi speaks first. “It’s fine, Bokuto-san. I can handle it.”

 

            “No!” Bokuto argues. “You’re, like, I mean, Akaashi, you’ve got your shirt on inside out and you put the milk into the pantry instead of the fridge.” He wonders how long it would’ve taken Akaashi to realize, if Bokuto hadn’t told him. He wonders if he would’ve noticed at all. “Is there— Have you tried anything else . . . ?”

 

            “Not really,” Akaashi shrugs. “I mean, switching up my diet’s helped some. But. Not really.”

 

            Bokuto nods, pauses to work through his thoughts. He decides on his answer quickly. “I’ll help you then, Akaashi! We can try whatever it takes to help you sleep. At least a little!”

 

            When Akaashi doesn’t immediately respond, there’s the return of the flash of panic that this is it, he’s messed everything up, he’s going to have to start looking for a new roommate, or start reworking his schedule so he never runs into Akaashi when they’re both home, and whatever friendship they might have is gone—

 

            But then Akaashi says, “Sure.”

 

            “Really?”

 

            “What’s the worst that could happen?” Akaashi asks, bitterness tinging his voice. “Best case, something works, and I get more than a few hours of sleep every couple days. Worst case, I still don’t get anything. So, okay.”

 

            This is how Bokuto spends his down time at work the next afternoon looking for things that are supposed to help with sleep. He sits tucked at the library circulation desk, Oikawa behind him, a google search up on his computer screen.

 

            “What’s this, Boku-chan?” Oikawa asks, rolling his chair over to peer over Bokuto’s shoulder. “Trouble sleeping?”

 

            Of course Oikawa’s going to ask. He’s the nosiest person Bokuto’s ever met, and considering he’s fairly well-acquainted with Terushima, that’s saying a lot.

 

            “Not me,” Bokuto says, turning and pushing Oikawa back a few feet. Well, he means for it to just be a few feet, but Oikawa ends up hitting the back wall, with the fact that these chairs roll a lot smoother than the old ones they’d been stuck with for nearly the last year. Oikawa nearly falls off his chair with the collision.

 

            “Rude!” he huffs, righting himself. He moves forward again, back to nearly where he was before Bokuto pushed him. “Neko-chan, then? I thought he had those fancy drinks to help him.”

 

            “No, no, Akaashi,” Bokuto says. He turns back to the computer, scrolling down one of the webpages that came up in his search. “He’s got it, like, really bad. I don’t know if he’s actually slept through the night since he moved in. I want to help him out.”

 

            “And you’re sure that . . . _aromatherapy_ is going to help?” Oikawa asks, squinting at Bokuto’s screen. Bokuto wonders when he’s actually going to get his glasses fixed.

 

            “It might!” Bokuto says. “You never know!” Everything is worth a try. Like Akaashi said, the worst that could happen is nothing makes it better, and he still gets no sleep. But Bokuto’s hoping for better than that.

 

            He figures he’ll start simpler than aromatherapy. He’s sure it has the capability to help, but he doesn’t really want to go out and find a diffuser or something quite yet. Start small, work his way up. Maybe it’ll be one of the simple solutions that helps Akaashi anyway. For instance,

 

            “Exercise!” Bokuto says, already dressed in leggings and his windbreaker. “I know you run anyway, maybe it’ll help to go for a jog at night!”

 

            Akaashi doesn’t go regularly, Bokuto knows. But Akaashi does use the gym at his university when he has the opportunity, and sometimes Bokuto gets home from work at the same time Akaashi’s getting back from a run. He figures, some warm-ups, a jog around the loop nearby, and maybe some squats or something when they return. If they’re lucky, it’ll tire him out enough that he _has_ to sleep a little.

 

            From where he’s sitting in the kitchen, working on a paper for class, Akaashi looks up at Bokuto. He looks terrible, and Bokuto wonders if going for a run is the wisest idea when it looks like Akaashi might stumble over his own two feet the second he stands up.

 

            “Alright,” Akaashi decides. “Give me a minute to wrap this up, and we’ll go.”

 

            Bokuto replies to texts from Kenma while he waits for Akaashi to put on something more suited for working out. He’s hopeful. Within all the work Bokuto’s put into finding a potential sleep cure, he’s certain _something_ will work. If not exercise, then maybe meditation or switching to the type of tea Bokuto can’t remember right now. Hell, maybe it _is_ aromatherapy that will get Akaashi to doze off. Regardless, something will help. Something’s _gotta_ help.

 

            “Are you ready, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi asks, tugging at his sleeves. He looks reluctant, resigned, like he’s already given up on trying to find anything that will let him get a few extra hours of sleep.

 

            “Let’s go!” Bokuto offers an encouraging grin. He won’t let Akaashi be so dejected from the start.

 

            They walk to where the trail starts, at the park down the block. They stretch, and start at a slow pace. Bokuto gets him to talk as they jog, a little about his classes, about work. He’s still getting to know Akaashi, bit by bit. He’s always happy to learn a little more about him.

 

            He’s studying biochemistry, which is totally ridiculous and impressive, and the nights he gets home late are because he’s studying with his classmates, even though much studying doesn’t ever really get done with Futakuchi around. (Bokuto sometimes has to stop and think of who his friends are, where they fit into Akaashi’s life. He mentions them enough that Bokuto recognizes the names, but sometimes he gets stuck on trying to remember whether Ennoshita is from class or work, if Yahaba is the one in his creative writing elective, or if it’s Yahaba’s boyfriend. It might be both, now that Bokuto thinks about it.)

 

            It’s around the one-quarter mark of the loop that they start to pick up the pace a little. As much as Bokuto likes trading bits of information about their lives with Akaashi, it soon becomes increasingly more difficult to keep up a conversation, so they lapse into a comfortable silence instead.

 

            There’s maybe a quarter of the trail left to go when Bokuto glances to Akaashi. He’s starting to look worn out, and Bokuto hopes that means he’ll be tired enough to collapse right into bed when they get home. He refocuses his gaze on the path ahead of them and says, “I’ll race you to the end.”

 

            Bokuto can see Akaashi look over from the edge of his vision before he turns away. “On three,” Akaashi replies, which is almost not what Bokuto was expecting. He’s got no reason to think Akaashi would put up a fight against the idea, but then again, he’s got no reason to think he wouldn’t, either. He supposes he’s used to Kenma’s outright refusal when Bokuto manages to convince him to go on runs with him. Then again, Kenma’s a competitive person and hates losing, and knows he can’t outrun Bokuto anyway. So there might be something to do with that.

 

            At Akaashi’s response, though, Bokuto grins, and starts the countdown. He’s barely at “three” when Akaashi darts ahead, and Bokuto lets out a disbelieving laugh. It kind of almost qualifies as _cheating_.

 

            “Not fair, Akaashi!” Bokuto cries out, pushing himself to catch up. He thinks Akaashi might be smiling as he starts to catch up. Bokuto barely manages to keep pace, but he’s really not expecting Akaashi to throw himself into a full-on sprint for the very last stretch, and he nearly stumbles in his haste to get even with him again.

 

            In the end, they’re both doubled over panting, with Akaashi having _barely_ managed to beat Bokuto.

 

            “You definitely,” Bokuto says, trying to suck more air into his lungs, “ _definitely_ cheated.”

 

            “How?” Akaashi says, amusement tinging his breathy voice. “I believe— I ran when you said three. Not a second before.”

 

            “ _Akaashi_.” He’s not wrong.

 

            “I never took you for a sore loser, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi looks up to meet Bokuto’s gaze with a tired smile, and Bokuto can’t stop his lips from twitching up to match it.

 

            “I am _not_ ,” Bokuto argues.

 

            But he’s laughing. He thinks Akaashi might be, too.

 

            They both shower when they get back to the apartment. By the time Bokuto’s toweling off his hair as he steps out of the bathroom, Akaashi’s dressed in sweatpants and the most worn-out shirt, stretched across the couch with his phone.

 

            Bokuto was kind of hoping he’d find Akaashi asleep.

 

            But he doesn’t let himself get down over it. Maybe he just needs an extra hour or something, and then he’ll be out like a light, and he’ll wake up feeling more refreshed than he has been lately. Maybe maybe maybe.

 

            That’s not what happens.

 

            Akaashi eventually slips into his bedroom, around the same time Bokuto does. But when Bokuto wakes up in the middle of the night, it’s to the quiet hum of a movie playing from Akaashi’s room. His light’s off, but he knows Akaashi’s not sleeping.

 

            They try again the next couple nights. They go for another run, do some crunches when they get back. They also try for the gym, for a more vigorous workout. But Akaashi still barely sleeps more than a couple hours, and he really seems more tired in the mornings after.

 

            “So I need a new plan,” Bokuto says to Kenma. Kenma’s sitting between his legs on the floor of their apartment, DS in his hands as he plays a game Bokuto doesn’t recognize. Bokuto’s flipping through a book, but he’s not really reading it. His mind is totally elsewhere.

 

            “Go the opposite direction,” Terushima suggests from where he’s sprawled out across the couch. “You said meditation’s supposed to help, isn’t it? Maybe Aka-kun needs to settle his mind some before he can sleep.”

 

            “Or yoga,” Kenma says.

 

            There’s a smile in Terushima’s voice when he says, “Kenma’s a big fan of yoga to help. ‘Specially when we get the neighbors in on it—“

 

            “Yuu.”

 

            “—and he can stare at Kuroo’s—“

 

            “ _Yuuji._ “

 

            “—ass all night.”

 

            Kenma twists to glare back at Terushima, who only cackles when Kenma reaches out a hand to hit him. “You’re a pest.”

 

            “You _love_ me,” Terushima says.

 

            They go with meditation. They make several attempts along this route. Bokuto’s not very good at quieting his mind in the silence, and he knows Akaashi’s still tapping his fingers against his legs, which means _his_ mind is still racing, too. Bokuto suggests a bath, because he read that that’s supposed to help to some degree. Somewhere throughout the week, Bokuto gets him to stop drinking coffee, and to switch to some herbal teas, and he thinks that helps at least _some_.

 

            But Akaashi’s still not getting enough sleep. He’s still dead on his feet when Bokuto gets up in the mornings, and it’s starting to make Bokuto feel bad.

 

            He really, really wants to help his friend.

 

            Akaashi eventually brings up aromatherapy, and so Bokuto picks up a diffuser that’s supposed to smell of lavender on his way home the next afternoon.

 

            “This is supposed to be really good!” Bokuto tells Akaashi when he comes through the door. Akaashi’s in the middle of cleaning the kitchen, and Bokuto thinks he may have rearranged all the dishes in the cabinet.

 

            “I believe you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi replies. He hears the unsaid doubt in Akaashi’s tone, though. It’s _supposed_ to help. That doesn’t mean it will.

 

            Bokuto won’t admit defeat so easily.

 

            He leaves the diffuser in Akaashi’s room, and sprays some lavender air freshener in the living room. Bokuto doesn’t mention how he decidedly isn’t the biggest fan of the smell of it.

 

            It’s not really relieving when that doesn’t help at _all_ (Akaashi hates the scent just as much, and it ends up giving him a headache rather than letting him sleep any). But Bokuto’s glad to be rid of the lavender.

 

            Yoga doesn’t help Akaashi sleep any, but he does say he rather likes it a week later. So they keep on with it. Bokuto doesn’t think about how Akaashi’s ass looks in leggings. Just internally curses Terushima.

 

            Bokuto asks Akaashi if it’s stress or something that keeps him up while they’re having dinner one night. They’ve settled into this routine that’s become comfortable and familiar, and Bokuto thinks they’re definitely friends. Sometimes Akaashi will watch that anime with Bokuto, and it takes a few episodes before he finally asks Bokuto what the _hell_ is going on, because none of it makes any sense to him. They go grocery shopping together. There are weekend afternoons where Akaashi’s sitting on the couch reading, and Bokuto helps himself to the rest of the couch, lets his legs fall onto Akaashi’s lap. He glares at first, but never shoves Bokuto’s feet away.

 

            Akaashi hates peppermint, Bokuto learns, and loves cinnamon. He starts spending longer hours at school some days as midterms start to approach.

 

            “I don’t think it’s stress,” Akaashi tells him honestly. “Anxiety, maybe.”

 

            Bokuto thinks about Akaashi’s restlessness. Even now, the hand that doesn’t hold his chopsticks taps an uneven rhythm against the top of the table. He’s never really thought of Akaashi as an anxious person, but he supposes it makes sense. It fits into the puzzle Bokuto’s still piecing together about him.

 

            “Just, like, in general?” Bokuto asks.

 

            Akaashi nods. “It’s not really about anything in particular. It’s just there.”

 

            So Bokuto nods. Kenma’s the same way. He thinks maybe one day he ought to introduce them. They’d probably get along.

 

            They try little things. Warm milk, a white noise machine. Bokuto surprises him one day with a new pillow, and he thinks he sees Akaashi with a sleep mask on one occasion.

 

            Bokuto comes back one night from dinner with Kenma and Terushima to Akaashi laying on the couch with his laptop.

 

            “Did you know,” Akaashi asks, not looking up from the screen, “that elephants are essentially always walking on tiptoe?”

 

            Bokuto lets the amusement he’s feeling slip across his lips. “I didn’t.”

 

            He drops down onto the other end of the couch, just barely avoiding sitting on Akaashi’s feet. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table, and listens to Akaashi talk about elephants. He’s not sure where the topic came from, but he likes listening to Akaashi talk. And when he runs out of things to say, Bokuto tells him about owls, which he probably lets himself ramble on about for too long because Akaashi asks why he knows this much off the top of his head. So Bokuto tells him about the book they recently got at the library, and how he’s been flipping through it when the children’s department is empty and he has nothing much else to do.

 

            It’s comfortable. It’s nice. Bokuto likes getting to be around Akaashi like this. He likes talking to him just as much as he likes listening to him, and he laughs when Akaashi drops his feet into his lap. He tells him about the essay he’s writing. Bokuto talks about the guy who sold the Eiffel Tower, twice, and then about work earlier that day. He lets himself ramble.

 

            Akaashi looks like he might doze off in the middle of Bokuto’s story about the broken microwave in the break room, so he keeps going, watching and waiting for Akaashi’s eyelids to droop shut.

 

            He keeps talking even when he’s fairly certain Akaashi’s fallen asleep, until he’s sure he’ll _stay_ asleep if he stops.

 

            _This could be it_ , he thinks. The key to getting Akaashi to sleep might be just . . . _talking_ to him.

 

            It’s only a couple hours before Akaashi stirs. Bokuto’s in the middle of a very heated text debate with Terushima over the probability of ghosts when Akaashi shifts, stretching out. He blinks awake, and Bokuto feels a little disappointment at the fact that he didn’t stay asleep for very long, but he _did_ sleep, at least.

 

            “How long was I . . .” Akaashi trails off into a yawn, and he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

 

            “Two hours, maybe,” Bokuto tells him.

 

            Akaashi nods and curls his legs to his chest, pillowing his head on his arm. He only sleeps another hour that night.

 

            But it’s something.

 

            “I can relate,” Oikawa sighs the next afternoon. He rests his chin in his hand as he stares at Bokuto. “I, too, am put to sleep by your terrible droning.”

 

            Bokuto rolls his eyes and pushes Oikawa with his foot so that his chair rolls directly into the wall, and Oikawa falls to the ground with a yelp. It’s what he deserves.

 

            When Akaashi’s sitting on the couch with a book that night, Bokuto joins him. He watches some Youtube videos on his laptop for a little while before he starts talking. Akaashi responds, for a while. Talks about some of his own interests, his own life. How Ennoshita and Futakuchi got him kicked out of the library with them when they got caught making out in the stacks. Bokuto laughs at that, and tells Akaashi stories of his own. He decides, as he notices Akaashi starting to drift off, that he’s glad _this_ is the method that’s working. Because for one thing, Akaashi’s _sleeping_. Not much, but it’s enough for now. And with this, he also gets to learn more about Akaashi.

 

            He thinks he quite likes learning about Akaashi.

 

            “Gay,” Terushima tells him a couple days later.

 

            Bokuto responds with an indignant squawk. “I’m— It isn’t— We’re not—“ He huffs, glowering at Terushima from across the diner table. “It’s not _like_ that.”

 

            “You’re crushing,” Terushima says.

 

            “It’s _friendly_.”

 

            “You think he’s got a great ass,” Kenma comments. The first contribution he’s made to the conversation since they got to the restaurant.

 

            “That’s a perfectly normal thing to note about someone!” Bokuto argues. “Akaashi’s got a great ass. So does Oikawa, but I don’t want to bone him, do I?”

 

            Terushima shrugs. “Whatever you say. You wanna hear about what happened with yoga the other night?”

 

            Bokuto knows Akaashi’s not going to keep sleeping on the couch. So it’s inevitable that he comes home that night and he’s in his room instead. Which, fine, yeah, of course. It’s just, Bokuto kind of doesn’t have a tendency to go in there. Out of courtesy. That’s Akaashi’s personal space, and Bokuto doesn’t want to intrude.

 

            So he doesn’t plan on anything more than sticking his head in, saying a hello to Akaashi, and asking how his day was. He figures, he’ll just go and maybe watch a movie or something on his own then, and let Akaashi be.

 

            But Akaashi invites him to stay.

 

            So he does.

 

            He sits on the end of Akaashi’s bed, and Akaashi tells him about his lab that morning, and Bokuto tells him about the group of kids they had come in for story time that afternoon, and eventually, Bokuto winds up lying sideways across the foot of Akaashi’s bed while they chat.

 

            Like doing yoga on the weekends, this becomes part of their routine. Bokuto eventually finds himself in Akaashi’s room at night, sprawled across his bed, talking. Akaashi sleeps most of the time. A couple hours sometimes. Other times, Bokuto’s barely back in his own room before the light goes on in Akaashi’s.

 

            There’s a sort of unspoken rule not to mention how this is _working_. Like they don’t want to jinx it. Which Bokuto is more than okay with, because while Akaashi still seems exhausted in the mornings, it’s better. He’s getting rest. And Bokuto really, _really_ likes talking to him.

 

            The ass thing might be different than it is for Oikawa. But he doesn’t dwell on that.

 

            He pushes all thoughts that aren’t strictly platonic way to the side, because there’s no point to that now anyway. Akaashi’s his friend. End of story. Friends help friends get sleep at night, because friends are supposed to care about each other’s well-being, and that’s all this is and ever will be: Bokuto caring about his friend.

 

            Akaashi’s got two exams coming up, and Bokuto helps him review the night before. He lays backwards in Akaashi’s bed, flipping through flashcards, trying not to kick Akaashi’s shoulder. Akaashi eventually retires around midnight, and lets the conversation drift from microbiology to bears. Bokuto still doesn’t know where the connection is there, but he knows Akaashi’s a little scattered, he keeps his socks stored with spare pencils and tape. So he doesn’t question it.

 

            Bokuto ends up flipped in the bed so he can see pictures Akaashi wants to show him on his phone, and he stays there when he starts talking about the upcoming children’s program he and Oikawa are putting together at the library.

 

            Akaashi drifts to sleep halfway through Bokuto’s story relating to his university’s swim team. Bokuto ends up asleep not long after.

 

            He doesn’t know how he ended up not making it to his own bed. But when he wakes up in the morning, Akaashi’s still sound asleep, tucked against his side. Bokuto has one leg tossed over Akaashi’s, and he swears there’s sunlight starting to peek in through the curtains.

 

            Did Akaashi really sleep through the night? Actually?

 

            Akaashi—

 

            Akaashi is curled up against Bokuto. Which is definitely not supposed to be happening. Is definitely not a regular, platonic thing that regular, platonic friends do. At least, Bokuto and Akaashi don’t.

 

            Bokuto very carefully extracts himself from the bed, then immediately scrambles back to his own room. He hopes, very sincerely, that Akaashi really did sleep through the whole night. That he didn’t wake up and find himself under one of Bokuto’s arms, because that could mess this whole thing up. He doesn’t want to make Akaashi uncomfortable, and ruin this entire situation. Definitely never wants Akaashi to find out what Bokuto thinks of his ass or his face, which is kind of really pretty, but that’s. It’s not like. There’s no _feelings_ behind that. It’s like the sky is blue, summer grass is green, Akaashi is pretty and has a great ass. Those are things easily observable by anyone. Facts of nature and whatnot.

 

            He’s totally going to mess this whole thing up. He’s going to wind up down both a friend and a roommate.

 

            Except— When Akaashi eventually drags himself out of his bedroom, he looks sort of hazy. But it's a proper thing, the way people are _supposed_ to look when they've just woken up, as opposed to the typical, I've-gone-four-days-on-six-hours-of-sleep _exhausted_ look.

 

            So there's a possibility that Bokuto didn't actually screw things up at all. There's a possibility that something about last night _worked_.

 

            Which is a whole new territory that Bokuto isn’t sure he wants to broach.

 

            “ _Gay_ ,” Terushima says as they walk to pick Kenma up from class.

 

            “I’m not—“ Bokuto twists his mouth into a frown. Terushima’s not _wrong_ , but he isn’t _right_ , either. “It isn’t like that. Akaashi’s just a friend, and I don’t want to make it weird.”

 

            “Because you don’t know if _he’s_ gay.” Terushima nods, as if he and Bokuto are actually both on the same page. Which they are most decidedly _not_.

 

            “Because it doesn’t matter if he is!” Bokuto says. “I don’t want that with him!”

 

            “Right, you just want to cuddle and stare at his ass and listen to him talk for hours and hours. Totally platonic shit. Okay, Bokuto.”

 

            “ _Terushima_.”

 

            “No, no, I get it. Totally straight between you two. No one’s gay here. No one’s gay anywhere. No non-straight people to be found on the face of the earth, they’re a total myth—“

 

            “ _Teru_.”

 

            “—and you definitely aren’t at all feeling anything for your hot roommate, not even a little.”

 

            “I’m not!”

 

            “Exactly what I’m saying. You don’t want to put your—“

 

            “Yuuji.”

 

            Terushima cuts off when Kenma joins them, and grins. “Ken! How was class? Bokuto slept with Akaashi last night.”

 

            Bokuto chokes on his own spit. “It’s not— _No_. It’s not like that. _Kenma_.”

 

            “Yuuji, shut up,” Kenma says. “Koutarou?”

 

            “I didn’t— I mean, I _did_ , but not like that,” Bokuto insists. “I fell asleep. In his bed. With him. We slept together, like. _Literally_.”

 

            Kenma smacks Terushima’s arm, and Terushima just laughs.

 

            “So what happened?” Kenma asks as they start walking again, towards the café Kenma wants to go eat at.

 

            “Nothing,” Bokuto says. “I mean, well. Akaashi _slept_. Like, six hours. And I don’t think he woke up in the middle of it.”

 

            Kenma nods, and goes silent while he considers this. Then, “So, your solution to his problem is to just sleep with him.”

 

            “Kenma!”

 

            “What? You slept together, and he actually got rest. That’s what you’ve been trying for this whole time, isn’t it?”

 

            And it _is_ , but Bokuto’s really not sure how to bring this up to Akaashi. He’s not sure how to come into a conversation and approach what his sleep solution seems to be. Because how’s he supposed to talk about that? He’s pretty sure Akaashi doesn’t even know what happened, and Bokuto doesn’t want to be the one to tell him.

 

            He’s at a loss. He wants Akaashi to sleep. But he also doesn’t want to make things awkward between them. Intentional cuddling would definitely make things awkward.

 

            “I’ll tell him,” Terushima says.

 

            “No,” Bokuto and Kenma both tell him at once. He at least tries to act offended.

 

            He figures he won’t tell Akaashi. Maybe he can just— just fall asleep there again. It’s not like Akaashi has to know that’s intentional. For all Akaashi knows, Bokuto just talked him to sleep, and that was that. He never has to find out otherwise. As long as Bokuto gets up before him, it’s fine.

 

            As long as Akaashi gets some sleep.

 

            What’s a little cuddling between bros?

 

            He’s restless through dinner. Like, Akaashi-level restless. He can’t keep his leg from shaking under the table, and he thinks if he doesn’t start slowing down with eating, Akaashi’s going to catch on and ask him about it. Which Bokuto is definitely not going to tell him, preferably ever.

 

            “Takeda-sensei lit his tie on fire during lab,” Akaashi is telling him. “Which was Futakuchi’s fault. He moved the bunsen burner.”

 

            “Is he okay?” Bokuto asks. He keeps shoving noodles into his mouth. He figures, if he keeps eating, he can’t talk, and he can’t blurt anything out. Keep every part of him busy so he doesn’t do something stupid.

 

            “Sure,” Akaashi says. “Aone and I took care of the fire. Ennoshita took care of Futakuchi. I think Takeda-sensei is going to steer clear of fire for a while, though. Changed what our next lab will be.”

 

            Bokuto snorts a laugh. “Did I ever tell you—“ He swallows around a mouthful of ramen. “Did I ever tell you about the time Washio broke the skeleton in our anatomy class?”

 

            They settle into a rhythm. Bokuto manages to forget about everything that happened last night as they talk. He gets Akaashi to laugh, and he has this totally hideous cackle that should be awful to hear, but all it does is make Bokuto want to make him laugh again.

 

            It’s not until after they’ve spent a couple hours lounging on the couch — Akaashi with his laptop to work on classwork, Bokuto with his phone and a nature magazine — that Akaashi gets up to go to his room. He hesitates when he stands, not quite making a full first step away.

 

            “Uh, Bokuto-san.”

 

            Oh no. He _knows_. Bokuto’s not ready for this conversation.

 

            “What’s up, ‘Kaashi?”

 

            “I, um. You talking until I fall asleep . . . really helps. Would you mind . . . ?”

 

            Bokuto feels the tension leave his body. _He doesn’t know_. “Yeah yeah, of course! Gotta get your beauty sleep, right?” He tries to be casual, but there’s still the lingering panic still draining from his chest. This is nearly as bad as the time Oikawa let him think he’d picked a book for their weekly story time at the library that definitely was _not_ for children. Only worse. Because this is losing Akaashi, who Bokuto really likes. As a friend. He’s a really good friend, and Bokuto doesn’t want anything to happen to ruin that.

 

            He hops off the couch and starts towards Akaashi’s room. He settles himself at the edge of the bed, somewhere in the middle. Close enough to the foot of it that he can move if Akaashi wants him to, but also close enough to the head that it would be totally casual for Bokuto to just lay down next to him. Smooth. Easy. It’s fine.

 

            Akaashi’s wringing his hands together as he lies down. Restless. Anxious.

 

            Bokuto figures if he starts talking right away, he’ll be faster to take Akaashi’s mind off however uncomfortable he feels. And talking might distract Bokuto, too, enough to let him relax and do what he needs to do to make sure Akaashi really sleeps.

 

            So he tells Akaashi about lunch with Terushima and Kenma. And it flows from there. At some point, he flops back to lay next to Akaashi, as casual as he can, and he doesn’t stop the words from coming. They both fall asleep eventually.

 

            Akaashi’s curled into his side, sound asleep, when he wakes up. His head is pillowed on Bokuto’s arm, and it’s so warm, and comfortable, and Bokuto gets the hell out of there as fast as he can.

 

            He manages another night of this. Barely, because the next morning, he thinks Akaashi wakes up just as Bokuto’s walking out his bedroom door.

 

            It’s the next morning that he messes up.

 

            He’s barely awake himself when Akaashi stirs. He makes this small, distant groaning noise when he wakes up and stretches his legs out, and Bokuto barely registers that it means Akaashi’s _awake_. It means Bokuto’s _fucked_. Because he’s totally got an arm draped over Akaashi, and Akaashi’s head was definitely tucked under Bokuto’s chin, and as good of friends as they might be, this isn’t a thing that they _do_. This isn’t— It’s—

 

            _Fuck_.

 

            “Bokuto-san?” Akaashi’s voice is still foggy with sleep, and Bokuto tries not to wince when he blinks his eyes open. “Did— Did you fall asleep?”

 

            Bokuto sits up, disentangling himself from Akaashi. “Uh. I guess?”

 

            Akaashi makes this low little hum when he stretches his arms out in front of him, and it’s so soft, and _hell_. “What time is it?” he asks. He’s not freaking out like Bokuto was expecting. Maybe he’s still too sleepy to recognize what’s going on.

 

            Bokuto glances at Akaashi’s alarm clock. “It’s— It’s nearly nine.”

 

            At that, Akaashi startles a little. He’s suddenly that much more awake as he turns to look at the clock himself. He stares at the time for a minute, then turns back towards Bokuto. “I haven’t slept that much in months,” he says.

 

            They don’t talk about it. Not at breakfast, at least. Bokuto goes over to Kenma and Terushima’s after that, so they don’t talk about it then, either. Well, Bokuto and Akaashi don’t.

 

            Bokuto and Kenma and Terushima is a different story.

 

            “So now you bone him, right? _Ouch,_ Ken, that one hurt!”

 

            “It’s probably not as big of a deal to him as it is to you,” Kenma says, ignoring Terushima’s whining. “He’s probably grateful he got to sleep.”

 

            “But we’re going to have to talk about it! Right?” Bokuto says. “There’s no way we’re not going to talk about it.”

 

            Kenma shrugs. “Maybe you will. Maybe you won’t.”

 

            “Maybe he’ll let you stick your— Fuck, Kenma!”

 

            “But what am I supposed to say if he brings it up?”

 

            “Whatever you think you should. You’ll be fine. You’re friends. Akaashi’s not going to drop you over the fact that he actually slept for once in his life.”

 

            Bokuto leaves Akaashi’s room that night the second he’s talked him to sleep. Akaashi looks like he woke up not long after that when he comes out for breakfast in the morning.

 

            Akaashi is completely restless over dinner. His fingers tap when he’s not pulling on them, his leg keeps bouncing, he won’t stop chewing on his lip and _that_ is _definitely_ distracting to Bokuto, and Akaashi’s got a really pretty mouth, a pretty mouth and a great ass and he’s really cute when he first wakes up in the morning and he has the most god awful laugh that Bokuto could bottle up and listen to forever. Bokuto doesn’t have feelings for him.

 

            He has to say something.

 

            “Akaashi?”

 

            Akaashi looks up from his plate, startled. Before Bokuto can say anything more — not that Bokuto even knows what he _would_ say — words are rushing out of Akaashi’s mouth.

 

            “I want you to sleep with me.”

 

            They both go dead silent and still over that, and Bokuto’s pretty sure his face is as red as Akaashi’s.

 

            “Not— Not like that,” Akaashi chokes out, voice strangled. “I. You can say no. I’ll understand. But I . . . that was eight hours. I slept eight hours. Just—“

 

            “Okay.” Akaashi looks totally caught off-guard at that, like he wasn’t expecting Bokuto to actually agree. “You need sleep, right? And I don’t mind! I’m still getting to sleep, so it’s fine!”

 

            It’s fine. But it’s also completely and entirely beyond awkward. Because sure, they have a good friendship, Bokuto thinks. Really good. They’re comfortable enough to get in each other’s personal space on a regular occasion. They have a really good system going for cooking and cleaning, and Akaashi’s fully on his side for the ghost debate with Terushima. They both have the same terrible sense of humor, and laugh at all the jokes that aren’t even funny on TV shows they sometimes watch together. Bokuto brings lunch to Akaashi at work when he forgets to take it himself. They still go running together sometimes, and yoga is always really good on weekends. He likes talking to Akaashi. It’s _easy_. Being with Akaashi is _easy_.

 

            But as good and easy as everything is with Akaashi, it’s totally outside familiar territory to be sleeping together. Intentionally.

 

            Bokuto tries to make it easier, because Akaashi’s hands are moving and wringing and fidgeting, and he just wants Akaashi to be able to _sleep_. And it’s definitely not like Bokuto minds it if this is how it’s going to happen.

 

            So he starts talking, because Bokuto’s good at that, especially with Akaashi. He talks about the library, the programs they have coming up, and Mina-chan, who has the cutest little gap-toothed smile when she comes up to Bokuto with drawings she’s colored in every time she visits. While Bokuto talks, they both get settled in Akaashi’s bed, and it’s definitely weird, and Bokuto definitely stumbles over his words a bit. But by the time Bokuto’s pulling his phone out to show Akaashi Kenma’s newly dyed hair — blue at the tips, with Terushima’s persuasion — they’re almost comfortable.

 

            Akaashi talks some. But it’s Bokuto who takes over in the end, and Akaashi drifts off to sleep, curled away from Bokuto. He’s tucked into his side again in the morning. But neither of them comment on that.

 

            Seven hours of sleep.

 

            Akaashi’s bedhead is unfairly attractive.

 

            “Do I need to say it?”

 

            Bokuto sighs and looks over Kenma’s head to Terushima as they’re walking down the sidewalk three days later. “I know you’re going to.”

 

            “ _Gaaay._ “

 

            “Yeah. Probably.”

 

            It’s stupid. Totally. That Bokuto wakes up in the morning with Akaashi pressed against him, and their limbs keep ending up tangled together, and Bokuto thinks a tired, sleep-drunk Akaashi is the most amazing thing to wake up to.

 

            Akaashi stops looking like total hell.

 

            Bokuto stops pretending there are no feelings.

 

            He’s pretty sure that it’s not just Akaashi who’s sleeping better. Bokuto feels better rested than he can ever remember, and it’s—

 

            “Have you seen this?” Akaashi holds his phone out to where Bokuto can see a video of some birds hopping around, a cheerful song playing in the background. Akaashi’s knee keeps bumping into Bokuto’s where they’re both tucked into his bed.

 

            It’s stupidly intimate.

 

            Bokuto’s definitely screwed.

 

            Akaashi leans into his shoulder even as he continues scrolling through his phone, and that’s where his head ends up pillowed when he inevitably falls asleep. Bokuto stays frozen in place, too scared to move and wake him up. Too scared that maybe _he’ll_ wake up, find this is all a dream.

 

            In the morning, Akaashi’s head is on his chest, and there’s definitely nothing Bokuto’s done to earn something like that.

 

            Sleeping together starts to push on the boundaries in the rest of their friendship. They’re far more touchy around each other in the days following. Akaashi comes home from classes one afternoon, while Bokuto’s cooking, and drops his head on Bokuto’s shoulder from behind, exhausted with the day. Bokuto sits close enough to Akaashi on the couch that they touch all the way from shoulder to thigh. There’s bumping hips and occasional hugs and it’s a _lot_. Bokuto is feeling a _lot_.

 

            Sometimes Bokuto wakes up in the morning and Akaashi’s been up before him, but still laying in bed, curled up next to Bokuto on his phone. Sometimes Bokuto wakes up and Akaashi’s been up for hours, he knows, because it’s not like this was ever a miracle cure, Akaashi still has issues sleeping, and those mornings, Bokuto shifts closer and tucks his head into Akaashi’s shoulder. Sometimes he wakes up and Akaashi’s out of bed, making breakfast, and Bokuto can’t tell if he’s been up all night or just within the last hour.

 

            The awkwardness phases out. It’s always just comfortable. Easy. Bokuto and Akaashi. Sensible.

 

            “You’re so into him,” Oikawa comments as he inspects his fingernails. “Like, completely.”

 

            “I _know_ ,” Bokuto groans into his hands. “He’s so great. Like, in every sense. Have you met him? Have you _seen_ him? He’s amazing. He’s so smart and funny and beautiful, and his _ass_ , and his _face_ , and he watches all these little animal videos all the time—“

 

            Bokuto cuts himself short at the amusement tinging Oikawa’s face.

 

            “Boku-chan, you should tell him,” Oikawa says. He says it with such certainty, like it’s the obvious choice. Like it’s _easy_. And while a lot of things with Akaashi are easy, talking about whatever the hell he’s feeling is most decidedly _not_.

 

            “That’s not happening,” Bokuto says. “I _can’t_.”

 

            “Sure you can! I did it with Kou-chan, you can do it with Akaashi!”

 

            “No you didn’t,” Bokuto replies, raising an eyebrow. “You spent months pining until Suga confessed to _you_. You’ve got no room to be giving advice here.”

 

            “ _Rude_ , Boku-chan.”

 

            “It’s true.”

 

            He spends his evening leaning against Akaashi on the couch, texting Kenma, trying to figure out what he’s really going to do. Because he can’t act like there’s nothing there — he knows there’s a lot of space in his heart currently occupied by his roommate.

 

            Some mornings, he wakes up and they’re completely intertwined. Sometimes he feels like he might suffocate when he looks down to find Akaashi resting his head on his chest, sound asleep with the early morning sun falling soft across his features. Sometimes that same feeling comes when he wakes up and Akaashi’s wide awake, has been all night, but he’s still there against his side as if it’s the perfectly natural thing to do.

 

            They share an umbrella when they walk to get the missing ingredients for a dinner they make and eat together. Akaashi meets Kenma and Terushima, properly, and they get along better than Bokuto could’ve ever thought. Kenma and Akaashi have a low conversation that looks like it flows so naturally. Terushima gets him to laugh, and Bokuto revels in the sound of it.

 

            When Akaashi goes into finals week, he ends up so stressed he barely manages to get to bed at night, much less sleep. Which definitely can’t be helping when he’s actually taking exams, because Bokuto knows that taking a major test on two hours of sleep is the most miserable experience.

 

            It’s one in the morning and Akaashi’s still sitting at their kitchen table, poring over notes when Bokuto comes to find him.

 

            “‘Kaashi, it’s late.” He takes slow steps up to the table, rests a light hand on Akaashi’s arm. “You need to sleep.”

 

            “Just one minute,” Akaashi tells him, a hint of desperation in his voice.

 

            Bokuto isn’t sure what he’s so worried about. He has perfect grades, and he knows all the material like the back of his hand. He’s spent the past couple weeks mindlessly chattering about it.

 

            “You’re going to be fine,” Bokuto insists. “You’ll ace it. But not if you don’t sleep some.”

 

            Akaashi doesn’t put up much more of a fight. He lets Bokuto guide him back to his room, and slowly changes into pajamas. He tucks into Bokuto’s side the instant he’s in bed, and Bokuto runs a hand through tired, messy curls.

 

            “You’re, like, one of the smartest people I know,” Bokuto says softly. “You’re going to do amazing on your test, and get your degree and an amazing job doing something amazing. It’ll be fine.”

 

            He thinks Akaashi hums something quiet back, but he’s already half-asleep. Bokuto keeps combing his fingers through his hair, until he eventually falls asleep, too.

 

            It’s a week later that he wakes up and Akaashi’s tucked into his chest, sound asleep, and Bokuto drops a feather-light kiss to the top of his head before pulling him closer and drifting back off to sleep. A couple days after that, they’re both sprawled across the couch, laughing at the worst movie Bokuto’s ever seen, and Akaashi turns to make a comment, and it hits them both in that moment just how close they really are, and Bokuto could probably count Akaashi’s eyelashes if he wanted.

 

            Whatever Akaashi intended to say gets forgotten in the midst of breathy laughter and half-smiles, and Akaashi turns back to the movie but leans his head back into Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto wraps an arm around his middle without even really thinking about it.

 

            It’s comfortable.

 

            There’s a quiet morning where Bokuto wakes up to fingers running slowly through his hair, and Akaashi’s already up and on his laptop, looking over a job application. He offers a quiet “Good morning” and a soft, tired smile when he realizes Bokuto’s awake, and Bokuto wonders what he has to give to keep having these mornings.

 

            It catches him eventually. They’re both up at three in the morning, hooked on an anime they’ve just discovered, and Akaashi’s pulled to Bokuto’s chest on the couch. There’s empty dishes set to the side from when they were still eating dinner, which they made together, because they always cook and eat together, and it’s ridiculously domestic. Everything they do is, when it comes down to it. And Akaashi gasps at something that’s happening on the TV screen, and it’s the most endearing thing Bokuto’s ever heard, and he’s at a total loss. He’s at a—

 

            “I really, really like you.” The words barely come out, and they’re only just audible, but Bokuto’s said them. They exist in the world now, and Akaashi definitely hears them because he stills for a moment before he cranes his head back to meet Bokuto’s gaze. His cheeks are dusted with pink.

 

            A slow smile pulls at Akaashi’s lips before he manages to say a muted, “I know.” Which is not what Bokuto was expecting in the numerous scenarios he’s come up with while thinking about how a moment like this would play out, and _what does that even mean Akaashi?_ and Akaashi just laughs, this delighted little thing, and he twists just a little more in Bokuto’s arms to be able to face him better. “I like you, too, Bokuto-san.”

 

            He turns back to the TV, but settles further into Bokuto’s hold, lets their hands find each other and fingers intertwine.

 

            They crawl into bed only a couple hours before the sun is supposed to rise, and they fall asleep just as tangled together as they are when they wake up.

 

            Sometimes Bokuto wakes up and finds Akaashi curled half on top of him, their legs intertwined. Sometimes he wakes up to find Akaashi never really fell asleep, but his hands are playing with Bokuto’s fingers instead of his own. Sometimes Akaashi kisses him awake, soft and sweet. Bokuto’s never had a better start to his morning than that.

 

            It’s always easy with Akaashi.

 

            Bokuto elects to not tell Terushima — or anyone else for that matter — when the sleeping together becomes a less literal thing.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm trying to make platonic teruken part of my Brand and that is the only reason either of them ended up in this


End file.
